


Deeper Relations

by PunishedVarmint



Series: Filthy Flash Fics [20]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Begging, Breeding, Cheating, Cock Slut, Creampie, Dubious Consent, F/M, Furry, Hair-pulling, Knotting, Large Cock, Mildly Dubious Consent, Moaning, Orgasm, Orgy, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rough Sex, Submission, Vaginal, Vaginal Sex, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26846506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunishedVarmint/pseuds/PunishedVarmint
Summary: Tyrande stumbles upon a scene of worgen and night elves establishing stronger bonds through unconventional means.
Relationships: Tyrande Whisperwind/Worgen
Series: Filthy Flash Fics [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1453060
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Deeper Relations

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter (https://twitter.com/PunishedVarmint) for all my latest updates!

Strange things were afoot in Teldrassil, and Tyrande largely suspected they had to do with the Gilnean refugees that had arrived recently. Like most of her people, the High Priestess felt a great deal of responsibility toward the worgen since it was their meddling with the Scythe of Elune that had allowed its curse into this world that swept throughout the once-great human nation. Now left without a home, it was the least that the Kaldorei could do to offer a new home to the afflicted Gilneans, and for a time it seemed as though there was great harmony between their two people.

And if Tyrande was being completely honest with herself, that harmony still existed. There had been no troubles, violence, or disagreements between the night elves and worgen. In fact, both cultures were getting along well… Perhaps too well. She couldn’t help but notice that lately the citizens of Teldrassil were deferring more and more to the particular tastes and preferences of the worgen, to the point where Kaldorei culture was starting to fade within their own city. Vast stores of moonberry wine within the local taverns were gradually being replaced with imported mead from the Eastern Kingdoms, and increasing number of luxury goods were being directed toward the Howling Oak – where most of the Gilneans dwelled – rather than to night elf homes. None of this was particularly problematic, but it was alarming to Tyrande who considered herself the guardian matriarch of Kaldorei society.

Things finally came to a head when Tyrande began to notice even her own priestesses were becoming a rare sight around the temple. Many of them had missed sermons several days in a row and, if they bothered to show up at all, would stumble in late in an almost trance-like state. When she entered the temple one morning and found that even sister Astarii Starseeker – perhaps the only Kaldorei whose devotion to Elune rivaled even the High Priestess’s – hadn’t shown up, Tyrande finally decided to find out what was going on. It had been awhile since she had last been to the Howling Oak, and so a visit was long overdue.

The very first thing Tyrande noticed when she entered the seclude grove was the smell. It was a scent that she had not personally witnessed in a long time but one she instantly recognized nonetheless: the smell of sex. The sight that awaited Tyrande as she drew closer confirmed her suspicions. There, gathered around the gnarled oak that gave the quarter its name, the worgen and night elves were engaged in an orgy of massive proportions. Everywhere she looked, her own people had paired off with a worgen – some of them even adding a second to the mix – and were fucking wildly in public like beasts of the forest.

Yet most startling at all was that not a single night elf was in control of the situation. Each of her sisters had submitted fully to the wolf-men that ravaged their elegant bodies, whether they be held against a tree, down on all fours like a bitch, or flat on their backs in a harsh mating press. Even Astarii herself, who had spent her entire life devoted to Elune, now sang her praises to the cock thrusting away at her pussy. Some of the night elves were even content to kneel before the worgen and worship their huge red members orally, with special attention made toward those thick knots at the base of each shaft. A few of her priestesses even lay alone and forgotten to recover from such rough treatment, their beautiful purple skin marred by streaks of white cum and legs spread shamelessly to show off gaping creampies. And from the chorus of lewd moans and cries of pleasure, it seemed not a single Kaldorei minded being used in such a degrading manner.

Tyrande was so transfixed by the scene that she hadn’t realized that the worgen who was rutting into Astarii’s cunt had taken notice of her arrival. With King Greymane away on business, leadership of the enclave had fallen upon Bartley, and he did not shy away from showing these elves their place. “Well, well. Look who finally decided to show,” grunted Barley without missing a beat of pounding into Astarii. “Did your curiosity finally get the best of you, Lady Whisperwind?”

Tyrande didn’t answer, still frozen in shock at what she had discovered. Yet already the debauchery that assaulted her senses were starting to overwhelm her mind. The smell, sounds, and sight of so much wanton sex was in turn stimulating her own body to prepare itself for such activities. Firm nipples poked through the thin, nearly translucent material of her white dress, and the delicate panties that were the only protection beneath her skirt were already damp.

Unfortunately, there was no hope of hiding such desires from the keen worgen nose. “Smell that boys?” growled Bartley as he pulled hard on his bitch’s hair, making Astarii squeal with delight. “It seems our High Priestess has gone into heat. Would you care to join your sisters, oh queen?”

The utterance of such a title – one she had despised since Azshara’s reign – didn’t even phase Tyrande. She found herself only able to focus on one thing at a time, and right now that was the fat, thick cock that was currently rearranging Astarii’s insides. “What… What is going on here?” demanded Tyrande after finally finding her voice.

“What does it look like?” asked Barley with a grin. “This is what you wanted, right? A new relationship forged between us and the Kaldorei. Well it’s finally arrived! A glorious new union in servitude to the worgen. Right where your people belong.”

Further words failed Tyrande. It was true that she had been one of the strongest voices among the night elves in welcoming the Gilneans to Darnassus. Was all of this her fault? Yet any guilt Tyrande might have felt refused to take hold in witness of how much her fellow night elves were enjoying themselves, the evidence plastered across their faces in expressions of bliss along with gooey lines of worgen cum. _“What have they done to my sisters?”_ she wondered silently. _“Is this the work of the curse?”_

Quickly Bartley pulled out of Astarii and let the whining elf fall limply onto the floor, the entire region of her crotch and thighs soaked with her unsatisfied arousal. “Finish knotting this slut,” he growled to a nearby worgen as he approached Tyrande. “I can tell this one desires to be mated.”

Tyrande shivered as he approached her, yet she could not take her eyes off Astarii as a new worgen, his massive cock hard and ready to go, instantly fell upon her vulnerable body and claimed the priestess in a frantic mating press. This worgen was quite eager to fuck his new elven bitch even without his leader’s command, and Astarii’s renewed cries of lust were quite clear: she didn’t care who fucked her so long as she got that knot. “M-mated?” asked Tyrande in a shaky voice.

“Bred. Rutted. Knotted. Fucked.” With each word, Bartley took a step closer until he was standing before the Kaldorei matriarch, practically towering over her with his height difference. “You want it, don’t you?”

Even if Tyrande wanted to lie, she knew her body couldn’t. Already she could feel the first signs of arousal – too much for her scanty panties to hold back – begin to run down her thighs, and it wouldn’t be long before her wanton lust would be visible for all to see. The constant moans and cries of her priestesses certainly weren’t helping either, and Tyrande was practically squirming in-place from the heat radiating off Bartley’s cock, still dripping with Astarii’s juices, as it drew nearer. “I…”

Bartley reached out and presumptively grabbed one of Tyrande’s purple breasts through the fabric of her white, silky dress. The High Priestess gasped in shock as his long clawed fingers began to squeeze and roll the titflesh in the palm of his hand. Such a rude act would have earned any lesser man a thorough thrashing, yet Tyrande did nothing. On some instinctual level, it was almost as though she felt that this man deserved to fondle her body like it belonged to him. “You don’t have to say it,” said Bartley with a toothy grin. “I’ll allow the High Priestess to preserve her dignity. Just nod and we can begin.”

Tyrande couldn’t quite remember ever doing as he asked, but the next thing she knew Bartley had pushed her down on all fours and was suddenly kneeling behind her. Though this submissive position was somewhat unfamiliar to her, Tyrande understood the implication exactly: that she was truly just a bitch in heat to this strong male, and he was about to fuck her like one. “W-wait,” she whimpered as Bartley flipped up her dress to lay upon her lower back, allowing him to pull aside her thoroughly soaked panties. Tyrande turned her head to look back at Bartley’s throbbing red dick as he laid it in the valley of her asschecks. “That won’t fit!”

“Of course it will,” he grumbled while teasing her quivering lips with his dick. “It fit inside all these other sluts. But I suppose it depends on how well Malfurion loosened you up for me.”

Even the mention of her husband couldn’t deter Tyrande from this course of action. She was already down on the ground, bent over and offered readily to this foreign man, so any further protest seemed ridiculous. Instead, Tyrande just curled her fingers around the soft grass and held on tightly as she felt that tapered tip rub against her slippery folds.

Bartley didn’t want to waste any time. He had been waiting too long for Tyrande to finally show up, and part of him feared that Greymane would return before then and claim the glory of first knotting the High Priestess for himself. But fate had been kind to Bartley, and now he was about to fuck Tyrande Whisperwind. “You’re so wet,” he noted as his prick pushed forward to part her sodden lips. “Who knew such a devout woman could be this wanton?”

If Tyrande could only see it, the sight of her pussy folds bulging outward in their struggle to take the fat worgen cock might have scared her from going further, yet the only thing Tyrande could feel was the immense pleasure coursing through her body as Bartley pushed onward. Every inch was a fight to fit inside her tight snatch, but he would not be stopped. Slowly yet surely, Bartley forced himself deeper and claimed Tyrande’s shapely body for his people (but most importantly for himself). “Good bitch,” grunted Bartley almost tenderly as his hands roamed over her back before sliding around the front to fondle her dangling breasts. “You take cock well. A shame you waited so long to come visit us.”

However, the High Priestess was in no shape to respond. Already her eyes were wide and staring forward in utter disbelief of the massive worgen cock stretching out her pussy. But more amazing than the sheer size of him was the immense pulsing heat that set her inner walls tingling, which only made Tyrande’s tight snatch even wetter to prepare itself for the rough pounding it was about to receive. Yet despite that, Tyrande was keenly aware of the knot held against her folds rather than shunted inside. “A-aren’t you going to – Haaai!”

Bartley interrupted her with a second thrust into Tyrande, and it instantly scrambled her head with pleasure and pushed all other thoughts away. The next few thrusts did nothing to help Tyrande regain her composure, and soon she was crying out with sweet moans to match her nearby sisters. All the while, Bartley continued to squeeze her sensitive tits like a considerate lover, but this wasn’t just about fucking the Kaldorei matriarch. This was about asserting his claim upon her body as a final testament to his own people’s rule over the other elf sluts, and so his hand quickly abandoned her lovely breasts to instead grasp her long, turquoise hair. “Cum for me,” he growled. “Cum on this dick and show everyone what it means to submit to worgen superiority.”

It was a command that was near impossible to resist. Between the thrill of this aggressive man treating her less like a noble woman and more like bitch in heat and the cock furiously pounding her body into submission, Tyrande had never felt such euphoria. Even in all her years of marriage, Malfurion had never pleasured her in such a way. The only thought in Tyrande’s mind as she neared that blissful peak was that this worgen deserved to own and breed her body for the rest of his days. “I… I want to! B-but… I need…”

Tyrande’s fat purple ass was quickly turning a bright red from the impact of Bartley’s hips beating against them, but still she could not cum. There was still something missing, something that she had desired ever since first laying eyes upon it, and her body refused to give in until that need was met. “Y-you’re holding back,” whined Tyrande as she thrust back into Bartley’s thrusts, her pussy lips bouncing futilely off the flared bulb at the base of his cock. No matter how hard she tried, Tyrande couldn’t do the deed alone. “Why haven’t you knotted me?”

“Are you sure you want it?” growled Bartley more out of a desire to tease and debase Tyrande further rather than genuine concern. “Once I knot you, I’ll have no choice but to finish inside you. Are you ready to take my knot and my cum?”

“I don’t care!” cried the lustful matriarch. Every second of waiting was agony to her frayed mind, and Tyrande only desired one thing in that moment, consequences be damned. “Wh-whatever it takes! Just please give me it! Knot me!”

Bartley chuckled. “And what about Malfurion? What would your husband think about another man cumming inside your married pussy?”

Tyrande barely even heard him. All of her focus was put squarely upon the fat knot that kept bashing against her sopping wet folds and the fact that it wasn’t inside her yet. “Who?” she gasped without even thinking.

Her answer drew a chorus of laughter and howls from the gathered crowd of worgen. “You shameless whore!” roared Bartley as he firmly grasped the High Priestess by her wide hips and prepared the final thrust of his mighty elf-breaker. “Then take it like the bitch you are! Get knotted and learn your true place!”

A shrill shriek of ecstasy broke out across the grove, and nearly every night elf present turned their head to witness the sight of their High Priestess take the full length of her worgen lover’s cock. At first her tender lips resisted, the last bastion of purity against such bestial masculinity, but eventually they submitted like Tyrande herself and allowed the knot to slip inside. As soon as his hips clapped against Tyrande’s ass, Bartley threw his head back and let out a hair-raising howl to the moon watching from above. Similarly, Tyrande howled as well but with her face buried in the grass and her eyes rolled back as her body shivered head to toe in the throes of the greatest climax ever. Though there was no chance of him pulling out, her pussy nonetheless clamped down hard around Bartley’s knot and set to milking his whole shaft so as to join her in orgasmic bliss. And now that he was finally balls-deep and locked into the revered Tyrande Whisperwind, Bartley let loose a thick spray of seed into her unprotected womb.

The other worgen joined their pack leader in howling to the sight of Tyrande’s defilement, and yet she could do nothing but quiver and moan in cock-drunk ecstasy. With nowhere to go but deeper, hot ropes of spunk poured from his throbbing tip and splattered against her inner walls, drawing more shivers of lust to run up her spine. Tyrande could feel this thick seed soak into every crevice, threatening to impregnate her thousand-years-old womb with illegitimate pups, and she merely continued to moan with gratitude. Never in a million lifetimes could Tyrande anticipate that her day would end with her body sprawled upon the ground, filled and bred by a stranger, but now she couldn’t imagine a better outcome.

“You belong to us now,” growled Bartley as he held closer to her and waited for his knot to soften. “You’ll come down here every day to service us with your slutty body, and then you’ll walk back to your temple with our cum dripping from every hole. Is that understood?”

A soft mewling whine escaped Tyrande’s lips as she felt the last few spurts of Bartley’s cum dribbling into her pussy to join the rest of the thick load that was pooling inside her womb. “Yesss… I’ll do it… Just please m-more…”

Bartley laughed. “Oh yes, you’ll get more. More than you can handle. When I pull out, the rest of my pack will have you. We’ve got all night and you’re not leaving until every last one of them has fucked you.”

Tyrande shivered at the sound of his promise yet nodded obediently all the same, still mesmerized by the wonderful, throbbing heat of his swollen knot resting inside her pussy. Already she was dreading the moment when it would deflate and Bartley would pull out, leaving her cold and empty, yet Tyrande comforted herself in the knowledge that soon another worgen would take his place to rut and knot the High Priestess of Elune.


End file.
